


Fearless

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [12]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, But Vine Tentacles, Ent!Kylo, Entlo, F/M, Fantasy Sex, Fluff and Smut, Immortality, Listen It’s Pretty Tentacle Sex, Loss of Virginity, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Purple Prose, Softest Tentacle Porn You’ll Ever Read, Spells & Enchantments, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), tree spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 22:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “I am not beholden to your demands, human.”“Then I am not beholden to your questions.”There is a shift in the air, just a stir of something that brushes along her skin, and then he is simply there— materializing from the bark of the tree as if simply stepping out of it.“Are you a God?” Her pulse quickens at the thought of having found what she’s sought, but he only frowns.“There are no Gods here.”In which Rey enters the woods looking for answers, only to find something she didn’t expect.





	Fearless

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I’ve been working on this as a bit of therapy so it’s probably weird and entirely too sappy, but anyway— hope you enjoy!

* * *

_This isn’t so bad_.

It is quieter here. Still. Upon entering the wood she hasn’t heard so much as a bird. A whisper of wind. It as if the world here is hushed. Different than her own.

She might be afraid— were she able.

The children of Jakku are born with… certain gifts. _Blessings._ That’s what they’re called. _Blessings from the Gods._ She supposes to some that might even be true.

Rey feels less than fortunate.

_Fearlessness._

The gift bestowed on her before she’d even taken her first breath. At first glance it might seem propitious, this gift of hers. Might even seem as something to be envied.

It is _terrible._

When she was only three she’d walked right up to a salamander as big as an ox. When she was nine she’d nearly drowned to sate her curiosity to see the kelpies of their pond with her own eyes. When she was thirteen she’d—

She chokes on the thought.

She can still feel the heat of the flames. Still hear them crackle and roar as everything she’d ever known burned to ash all around her. When she closes her eyes— she can still hear their screams.

Since that day, she’s been alone. No mother. No father. Barely even a friend.

Utterly alone.

She’s heard talk of the old Gods still dwelling in this wood. This wood where no one ever goes. There is a fear tied to this place. Some consternation so old that none can even remember how it came to be.

She doesn’t feel their fear.

She doesn’t feel _any_ fear.

She doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want _any_ of it. In her nineteen years it has given her nothing but sorrow. Curse the Gods and their blessings. If they can bestow such great and terrible things— surely they also can take them away.

Which has led her here— to the dark of the wood where no one ever goes.

She has lost track of how long she’s walked. Time feels different here. She is uncertain if she has spent hours amidst these trees or days. The lumbering masses reach high above her, their canopies blotting away the sun to leave a dreary grey world below. A fine mist carpets the earth, only adding to the gloom of it all.

In the absence of her fear she is able to appreciate the beauty of this place. The calm of it all. There are no shouts of other people in the village. No bells from the tower. No whispers as she passes. No eyes on her.

She actually enjoys the peace.

She sits on a fallen tree, gazing out at a clearing she’s come across and enjoying the bit of sunlight that breaks through to wash over its center. It is the first bit of warmth she’s found in this place, and it feels as if a bit of magic.

She holds out a hand to let the sun’s rays paint her fingers, warming her skin as her toes scrunch in the grass below. Her shoes lay nearby— simple boots that are perhaps older than she is. She prefers to be without them. She likes to feel the earth beneath her feet.

Her pack sits beside her on the old tree, and she wonders idly how long she can stay here. She’s brought provisions for a good number of days, but how long can she indulge in this quest? She hardly knows if there is any merit in it to begin with.

They’d called her a fool for charging into these woods, but then again, a fool is preferable than the words she’s become accustomed to. Whispered accusations. _Warnings,_ even. It is known in Jakku to fear the one without fear. She is unpredictable. _Dangerous._

Rey doesn’t feel very dangerous. Mostly, she just feels lonely.

The light is fading now, and she knows with nightfall will come the cold. She decides that it is best to bed down here where visibility is high, unsure of what creatures the night will bring.

There is a tree just at the edge of the clearing, one so large that its roots creep over the ground to cast of web at its base that is perfect for shelter. She carries her things across the clearing, settling into the grass at the base of the imposing giant of a tree.

She pulls her flint from her pack, tossing a bundle of sticks she’s gathered into a pile and setting about starting a fire. She makes quick work of it, a small blaze soon crackling in the center of her would-be camp and casting flickering light on the raised system of roots that circle around the small space.

One might think she would have an aversion to fire, considering. Only… aversion is so similar to fear. Something she doesn’t know. It does nothing for the memory of it though. When she looks into the flames, she can’t help but see their faces. Even if she wishes she could forget.

She has a simple dinner of bread and cheese she’s brought with her, and when night settles fully over the forest, she slows herself to curl into the grass and ready for sleep. She lies on her back in the soft bed she’s made for herself, staring up into the looming branches of the tree.

It is so _quiet._ Rey has never known silence like this. Beyond the occasional _pop_ of the fire, there is nothing. She wonders if this is what it is like to be truly alone. She’s always thought herself to be just that, but she sees now there is always a step further.

Here in this forest— _this_ is true solitude.

As she drifts to sleep, she thinks to herself she pities the old Gods. For if she has been alone— surely they are as well.

* * *

She thinks it is morning when she wakes.

There is no sunlight now, only that same thin grey light that clings to the trees. Her fire has died— looking as if perhaps it has been stomped out. There is a spray of dirt cast over the ashes, and immediately this befuddles her. She thought herself to be alone here.

She sits up from the grass, casting a curious glance around the space in search of her visitor.

“Hello?”

She hears him before she sees him. The answering voice deep and _ancient. “_ What are you doing here?”

She frowns, not liking that she can’t decipher who is speaking. “Show yourself.”

“I am not beholden to your demands, human.”

“Then I am not _beholden_ to your questions.”

There is a shift in the air, just a stir of something that brushes along her skin, and then he is simply _there—_ materializing from the bark of the tree as if simply _stepping out of it._

He is certainly not human— far too tall, too _big._ His chest is bare and seems as wide as the tree itself, a viridescent hue staining his shoulder and bleeding over his collarbones. It reminds Rey of the moss that covers the base of the tree. Which brings her attention to the foliage that weaves into his dark hair, little sprouts of leaves blending into the thick mane as if a natural part of it.

When he moves, little tendrils slither in the air around him— thin vines seeming to sprout from his body and having a mind of their own. He is at least clothed from the waist down, although of a fabric she doesn’t recognize. Some shiny black that shimmers when he moves.

She is for a moment struck by his face— odd at first glance. Disconnected, his features seem… too big. Too pronounced. Together… they make him striking. His too-large lips are a distraction, perhaps even fuller than her own. For a moment she feels a warmth in her belly she has never known before. Then his eyes— dark, piercing, but in their center— that same green glow that seems to color him everywhere else.

She says the first thing that comes to mind. “You put out my fire. That was very rude.”

He smirks. “You lit a fire in my roots. Who is the rude one?”

“ _Your_ roots?”

He pats the bark. “This is my tree.”

“Your tree,” she echoes in confusion.

He nods. “My home-tree.”

“Are you a God?” Her pulse quickens at the thought of having found what she’s sought, but he only frowns.

“There are no Gods here.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that. “There _must_ be.”

“There aren’t. Only I live here. As far as I know. You’re the first I’ve seen in…” He pauses, his brow furrowing in thought before he continues. “A very long time.”

She slumps forward, disappointment flooding her. “I came here because I was told old Gods dwelled here.”

“I’m afraid you were misinformed. It’s best you go on home.”

She laughs scornfully. “I don’t have a home. Not really.”

“That is unfortunate. Nevertheless… it’s best you return to wherever you came from.”

She looks up at him, studying him for a moment. “Perhaps _you_ can help me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?”

He laughs dryly. “You are quite literally— barking up the wrong tree. You’ll find no tender hearts here.”

“You don’t even know what I want.”

He shrugs. “I am certain I will not care.”

“How do you know?”

He sighs wearily. “You aren’t going to leave. Are you.”

“Not unless you hear me out.”

He moves to sit begrudgingly, waving his hand in request. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“It’s about my blessing.”

“Your blessing.”

“The ones we are given at birth.”

“Ah. How unfortunate. To be given a gift without giving anything in return. Truly, I see your plight.”

She huffs in frustration. “It isn’t a _gift_ — it’s a _curse.”_

 _“_ You know nothing of curses,” he scoffs.

“I was given fearlessness.”

He cocks an eyebrow, one of the tiny vines creeping up into his hair to rub at his temple. “I fail to see what brings you woe.”

“Do you know what it’s like? To not be afraid? I have done things— things I would _never_ do. Things that don’t even _occur to me…_ that they are dangerous. That they should be avoided. I cannot decipher. What I should avoid and what I should charge into.”

“So you wish to be afraid.”

“I wish to be normal.”

He lets his head rest against the bark, looking up into the branches as he considers. “Normality. What a strange thing to wish for.”

“It isn’t _strange.”_

“It is boring.”

She grits her teeth, his flippant attitude grinding her nerves. “Can you help me or not?”

He brings his gaze to her once more, those bright eyes boring into hers for several long moments. Finally, he takes a deep breath. “No.”

“No?”

He nods. “No. I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

“I think it leans more towards _won’t.”_

He shrugs. “Believe what you wish. Now, if you don’t mind…”

He moves to stand, seeming to have every intention of leaving.

“I’m not leaving here until you help me.”

He turns to glance over his shoulder, peering down at her. “Then you will be here a very long time.”

She juts out her chin. “I have nothing but time.”

His answering smile is far from happy. “Time. That too, is something you know nothing of.”

He disappears then, moving through the bark to simply disappear back to wherever he came from. She crosses her arms, huffing out a breath and scowling at the place he’d just been. He is as close as she’s found to the old Gods she was promised— and she isn’t leaving here until she knows for sure he cannot help her.

If there’s one thing she’s certain of, it’s that she isn’t afraid to wait.

* * *

He sits on a branch, the next time she sees him. She thinks a day has passed, but she can’t be sure. He leans against the bark, one long leg hanging over the side of the low-slung branch as he peers down at her.

“You’re still here.”

“I told you, I have nothing but time.”

He gives her a bored expression. “Persistent, aren’t you.”

“That’s a new one. Not something I’m usually called.”

“What do they normally call you?”

“I don’t know. Impulsive. Chaotic. Monster.” She says the last word with a hint of bitterness, scowling down at the fish basket she’s been working on all morning.

He shakes his head. “No, what do they _call_ you. What is your name?”

“Rey.”

“Rey.” The way he says it— it isn’t like how she’s used to. In recent years she’s only ever heard her name with a hint of derision. An ounce of warning. His voice is… soft. As if testing the sound. “It reminds me of sunlight.”

She clears her throat, returning her attention to her work. “What do they call you?”

“Who? All of my friends?” He gestures around the clearing beyond the tree, looking slightly amused.

She rolls her eyes. “What is _your_ name.”

When she looks up at him, a vine lingers at his mouth, stroking at his lower lip slowly, distracting her. “Kylo,” he says finally. “They used to call me Kylo.”

“Kylo,” she repeats, testing it herself. “That doesn’t remind me of anything.”

He chuckles, an odd sound that sounds unpracticed, and still she finds she likes it. “No. I don’t suppose it would. What are you doing down there?”

She holds up her project. “There’s a stream. Just beyond those trees there. Did you know?”

He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t.”

“How can you not know? It’s not far.”

“I can’t leave the tree.”

“Why not?”

His face hardens. “I just can’t.”

“But why? Surely you could just—”

He’s gone again, sunk into the bark like a shadow, and she frowns up at where he’s just been, wondering what she’d said to upset him. He’s very mercurial, Kylo.

She returns to her work, weaving the vines through the bound sticks, her mind lingering on the vines instead that curl from Kylo’s body.

Strange. Very strange.

* * *

“You hair is wet.”

She doesn’t even look at him this time. She’s used to him coming and going by now. It’s been a good number of days after all. “I’m aware.”

“Why is it wet?”

“I bathed. In the stream.”

“Prudent.”

“I thought so.”

“You know, if you would just help me, I could get out of your hair.”

“Under the assumption that I even can of course.”

“I suspect you can. I think—” She turns to look at him then, struck for a moment by his nearness. He’s leaning over her shoulder, watching her rifle through her pack. Her mouth hangs agape, her next words failing her. He smells… nice. Floral, somehow. Although, that part actually makes a little sense.

“You were saying?”

She swallows. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She feels a vine curl around a loose tendril of her hair, testing its weight as it tugs softly.

“Don’t— Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I don’t sneak.”

“Then don’t… stand so close.”

“Why?”

“It makes me uncomfortable.”

He purses his lips, and that too is distracting. He backs away though, leaning against the bark instead as a few stray vines curl over his shoulders. “Apologies. It’s been… a very long time since I’ve interacted with someone.”

“How long have you been here?”

He furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure. A century? Perhaps two. Time doesn’t pass the same here.”

“It doesn’t?”

He shakes his head. “It hardly moves at all.”

“For everyone?”

He nods. “For everyone.”

“So if I stay here…”

“I imagine you’d stay just as you are.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?”

He averts his gaze, his mouth forming a tight line. “I suppose.”

“I’m sorry. That sounds terrible.”

His eyes flicks to hers, lingering for a moment before he nods slowly. “Thank you.”

The silence is thick between them, and there is a strange urge inside her to comfort him. This creature she barely knows. She isn’t sure she’s even had an urge like this before. “Listen, I’m really— damn it all!”

He’s disappeared again. She huffs out a frustrated breath, growing a little irritated with his constant flitting in and out. Perhaps he really can’t help her. Perhaps she’s wasting her time.

Still, she finds herself reluctant to go just yet.

* * *

She’s lying in the sun when she sees him again. She’s beginning to understand what he meant by the funny passage of time here. She tells herself she’s been here a week, but it feels longer— and yet also shorter. It is a strange thing to be sure.

“What are you doing?”

She startles a little, having never seen him so far from the tree. “What are _you_ doing? I thought you couldn’t leave the tree.”

He taps his foot at a bit of root that protrudes from the earth. “I can go as far as the roots go.”

“Tired of sulking in your branches, then?”

“I don’t sulk.”

“Looks a bit like sulking to me.”

“What do you know?”

She closes her eyes against the sunlight, smiling a little. “I know a lot about sulking.”

“I’ve been wondering more about your blessing.”

“Have you now.”

She feels him beside her, and in moments she senses him stretching out beside her to lay in the grass. She tenses at his nearness, able to feel the warmth of his large body, unused to being so close to another person.

“Why would you want to be afraid?”

“I told you, I just want to be—”

“Normal. I know, but with it comes fear. Why would you want to fear things?”

She sighs softly, memories flooding her against her will. “Being without it has brought me nothing but heartache.”

“Such as?”

She is quiet for a time, and he just allows her the silence, allowing her to gather her thoughts. “I was thirteen. I had a penchant for bringing home creatures I shouldn’t. My mother warned me that it was going to get me into trouble one day.”

“I suppose it did?”

“Sort of. I found a fire sprite in the hearth. I should have let it go— should have taken it away from the house… but I kept it.”

“Ah, they can be very temperamental.”

She laughs scornfully. “Yes. I learned that.”

“Did they make it?”

“No. No, they didn’t.”

“So, you’ve been alone all this time.”

“Yes.” Her voice is very soft now. “I have.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he says, but it comforts her. No one else has ever said as much. They’ve been too busy blaming her— something that isn’t necessary. She blames herself enough as it is. After several minutes pass, he speaks again, his voice just as soft as hers had been. “If you weren’t fearless— you’d probably be afraid of me.”

She turns her head then, studying the side of his face as he peers up into the sun. At this angle his hair falls away from his ears, and she can see the soft green tint of his throat extends there to curve around the shell. She is curious as to how soft the little leaves that blend with his hair are, and for a moment her fingers itch to reach out and see. She keeps them firm by her side though, worried she might make him disappear again.

“No,” she denies quietly. “I don’t think I would be.”

She doesn’t know how long they lay like that, but she finds she enjoys the company.

She enjoys it very much.

* * *

Rain wakes her in the middle of the night. Of which night, she can’t be sure. It surprises her, those first few drops— she hadn’t even been aware it could rain here. She sits up from her makeshift bed, retreating further into the raised vines to escape the steadying drizzle that has already seeped into her clothes.

“Perfect,” she mutters. “Just perfect.”

What happens next is too quick for her to process. A hand on her shoulder, wrenching her backwards. Passing through the tree is odd— both solid and very much _not solid._ Inside the tree is bright beyond all reason, and she is surprised to find a tiny fire in an orb that hangs from somewhere higher up.

Kylo is huddled off in a carved space that seems to be where he sleeps, and a quick look around shows nothing else in the space but a small table. She eyes the orb of fire with slight amusement, turning her gaze to Kylo.

“A bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s my tree.”

She shivers a little, rubbing her arms. “I guess that’s fair.” She gives another look around. “So you could have done that the entire time, huh?”

He looks sheepish. “I wasn’t sure… I’ve never tried it.”

“Well. Thank you. I probably would have frozen to death.”

“Doubtful.” He shrugs a little. “But I suspect it might have been unpleasant.”

“Thanks all the same.” She glances to his bed, suddenly nervous. She moves to sit on the floor instead. “I’ll just make myself comfortable until it stops raining and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

He cocks his head, chewing his lip in thought as he looks from her place on the floor to his bed. “It would probably be more comfortable here.”

She follows his line of sight to the bed, a simple mattress he seems to have constructed himself from the materials  of his own tree. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly… I don’t want to trouble you.”

He shrugs. “I doubt you take up very much room. You’re very small.”

“I’m not _small._ You’re just… ridiculously large.”

“Either way.”

She gives another shiver, eyeing his bed a little wistfully and thinking about how much warmer it would be beside him than on his floor. “I guess… it couldn’t hurt.”

He crawls into the carved opening, moving near the edge and settling as he gestures to the empty space. She is hesitant for a moment, unsure. It’s not fear that makes her hesitate— she knows this because that’s something she’s incapable of. However, it is _something._ A strange fluttering in her belly she’s never experienced before.

She shrugs it off, crossing the tiny space and crawling in after him to settle on the edge of his bed. He really is quite large, and it means that there isn’t very much room to make space between them. She can feel the warmth of him radiating against her back, and even if it makes her feel strange, she has to admit it’s pleasant.

She isn’t sure what controls the fire—perhaps Kylo—but without prompting it begins to dim, shrouding them in darkness to leave nothing but the muffled sounds of the rain outside and their intermingled breathing.

She knows he is awake, can somehow _sense_ it— and questions rage inside her that she can’t seem to let go of.

“Kylo?”

“Hm?”

“Why can’t you leave the tree?”

He doesn’t answer for several moments. When he does, it is quiet, sad even. “I thought I was fearless once, too. It got me into trouble.”

“Did someone do this to you?”

“For a long time I thought so… but really, I know now I did this to myself.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. It’s in the past. I can’t change it.”

“Okay.” Quiet settles once more, and Rey’s mind still buzzes with questions she knows he won’t answer. So she asks the one she thinks he might. “You really can’t help me, can you?”

He takes a deep breath, the sound deafening in the tiny space. “No. I really can’t.”

“So there’s no point in me staying. Is there.”

“No,” he all but whispers. “I guess there isn’t.”

When she finally drifts off to sleep, she does so thinking about the next day, knowing it would probably do them both well that she return home.

The only problem is… she feels more at home _here_ than she has anywhere else in a long time.

* * *

It’s so _warm._

For a moment she forgets where she is. It is only the thick mass of an arm slung around her waist that brings her back to reality. She knows he’s sleeping still, can tell by the slow rise and fall of his chest— but apparently the vines don’t sleep. They move over her skin like they’re seeking something— lifting her hair, prodding at her lip, even snaking under her shirt to linger at her waist.

It’s disconcerting— among other things.

“Kylo,” she murmurs. “Wake up.”

He only tightens his grip around her waist, nuzzling into her hair. She can feel the tickle of leaves as they brush against her.

“ _Kylo_.”

“Ermph.” He shifts behind her, pulling her a little closer.

“ _Hey_.” She nudges her elbow into his stomach, and he jolts as he comes to.

He seems to realize just how close they are, immediately releasing her. She is surprised by the flicker of disappointment in her chest, missing the warmth of him only seconds after he moves away.

“Apologies,” he mutters.

“It’s… okay.”

She rolls to her back, the fire in the orb lighting to a fraction of what it had been last night to cast a dim glow over the inside of the tree. Kylo is pressed against the far wall of the space, looking slightly embarrassed.

“It wasn’t intentional.”

She nods, not missing the pang in her stomach. “I know it wasn’t.”

“It’s morning outside.”

“Is it?”

“It is. The rain has stopped too.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugs. “I just know.”

“Oh. I guess… I guess I should get going then. Shouldn’t I.”

“I guess so.”

She tries to hide the way her face falls, unsure as to why she feels so morose about the whole thing. She moves to crawl out of the bed space, just about to swing her legs over the side when his hand darts out to enclose around her wrist. She stares down at it in confusion, looking up to meet his gaze to find that he seems just as confused by what he’s done.

“Or… you could stay.”

“Stay?”

“It’s just… I like… having you here. It’s nice. Not to be alone.”

“You… want me to stay.”

He looks embarrassed. “If you want.”

She considers everything she’s left behind, realizing in entirely too little time that what she’s left behind isn’t very much at all. Leaving Kylo behind though, for whatever reason, feels almost like a loss. She would miss him, she realizes. She isn’t sure how much time has past, or how long she’s spent with him— but she realizes all at once that she would _miss him._

It is the closest thing she’s ever felt to fear—imagining him not being there. That alone is enough to have her nodding. To leave a small smile playing at her lips.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Huh.”

He looks a little lost, and she can’t help but laugh softly. “Did you expect me to say no?”

His mouth opens just to close again, shrugging a little before he smiles. She’s never seen him smile before. She finds she likes it. “I suppose I didn’t expect you to say yes.”

“Well, I did.”

“I know.”

“So… what now?”

“Could I… hold you again? I really liked that.”

She decides not to lie. “I liked that too.”

She moves back to him, stretching out beside him as his arm moves over her waist once more. She’s facing him this time, and in the dim light she allows herself to study him in a way she’s avoided fully in time past.

He’s so… beautiful. Something she’s never allowed herself to think—but he is. Different and strange and _beautiful._

She feels a stray vine creeping up her shoulder to tease at her hair, and she can’t help but grin a little wider. “Do you actually control those?”

“A little— although they sometimes have a mind of their own.”

“I think they really like my hair.”

“They just like you.”

She hopes he can’t see the way she’s surely blushing, the vine pushing through her curls to trace the shell of her ear. She shivers a little, enjoying the sensation.

She feels another brushing against her chin, sliding upwards to trace the swell of her bottom lip.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to try,” he murmurs, his eyes following the path traced by the vine. His eyes flick to hers for only a second. “If you don’t…”

She finds herself nodding. “Okay.”

When he leans in, she holds her breath. She knows of this, has heard of it in passing— but has never experienced it. Who would want to kiss her? There’s no one who would ever get close enough.

Now she finds her heart racing, her pulse thrumming under her skin in anticipation of the feel of his lips on hers. She hadn’t even realized she’d wanted it— not until she had seen the way he stared at her mouth. Felt his breath mingling with hers.

When his mouth presses against hers— she realizes exactly what she’s been missing. It’s warm— _soft—_ his lips moving over hers slowly as if exploring their shape. Her hands lay between them, resting against the wide expanse of his chest and reveling in the firmness there.

She lets them push upwards to curl over his shoulders, threading into his hair to toy with the leaves there. He makes a sound deep in his throat, and she isn’t quite sure if it is one of content or displeasure.

When she ceases what she’s doing— she quickly finds out, his hands pulling her closer until there is no space left between them. Until she is molded against him.

She can’t stop thinking about the size of his hands. It’s hard to focus on anything else— hyper-aware of their mass as they smooth over her hip. As they press against her spine. As the drift lower to knead at the rounded curves of her bottom.

It makes her feel strange. Strange in a way she’s never felt before. No one has ever touched her so _much._ So _often._ It’s hard to keep a handle on her thoughts.

She feels his tongue at the seam of her mouth, tracing the line there and she opens instinctively. His actions are slow, _testing_ even— just as unsure as she feels and yet every bit as eager. She can’t help the tiny breath of sound that escapes her, and his answering groan tells her he doesn’t mind.

She is surprised when he urges her to her back, moving to settle over her and fill the entirety of the space that is his bed. There is almost no room for this— the way he covers her, but it only means he must be _closer._ She doesn’t mind very much.

There are tiny presses of his vines all over her skin, dozens seeming to have sprouted from his body to touch every part of her they can reach. It’s enough to leave her dizzy.

He breaks away suddenly. “I’m sorry.”

She swallows, knowing exactly what it is he’s apologizing for but not feeling like he should. She rolls her hips testingly, feeling the hardness that rests against her as a soft moan escapes him. This too she knows, of course she does. She is not a child— but it is also something she could never hope to experience.

It’s heady— the knowledge that she could elicit such a reaction. That someone could look past what she is and just see her. To _want_ her.

“Don’t be sorry.” She reaches upwards to press her lips to his. “I feel it too.”

“I’ve never…”

“Neither have I.”

He pulls away, looking down at her with concern. “We don’t have to.”

“I think…” She’s still staring at his mouth. Still thinking of how it feels. “I think I want to.”

“You think.”

“No, I do. I do want to.”

“You don’t sound very convinced.”

She rolls her eyes, threading her arms around his neck. “Be quiet. Just come here.”

He’s grinning when he kisses her again, settling his weight over her fully as she lets her hands roam over his shoulders. His hips move of their own accord, rolling against hers in a slow back-and-forth that has her squirming. The tiny patch of her bare stomach exposed from her hiked-up shirt feels heavenly against his skin, and she wants more of that.

Her hands wriggle between them, tugging at her shirt insistently, and she feels several creeping vines come to her aid to help pull it off. He pauses to look at her, his eyes moving over her bare chest to linger and for a moment she feels unsure.

“Beautiful.”

One word in that reverent tone is more than enough to set her at ease. His lips find her throat, leaving heavy kisses their as he travels lower to brush along her collarbone. When she feels those same lips at her breast, lingering at the taut peak there, she can’t help the soft cry that escapes her because _oh—_ that is far better than she could have imagined.

Kylo takes this as encouragement, letting his tongue flick out to lap there slowly and her eyes close in pleasure at the sensation. She all but loses her mind when she feels the slow inch of a vine sliding up her belly, moving to devote attention to the nipple Kylo is neglecting in his devotion to its twin.

It’s entirely too much.

It’s somehow not enough.

She writhes wantonly in his hold, his large hands gripping her waist even as she feels the little slithers of more vines graze along her skin. There are several at the waist of her pants, tugging softly in an attempt to pull them away. She lifts her hips to aid them, the slow slide of fabric from down her thighs welcome as it only brings more of him against her.

Her fingers find Kylo’s own coverings, pushing at the dark fabric he always wears with a need to feel him against her. She seems to run on instinct now, no fear in her veins to leave any doubt. There is only how they feel, fit together like this. There isn’t room for anything else.

She sighs in content when there is nothing left between them, everything about him so _big and warm_ and better than anything she’s ever felt.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed. She wonders if this too is some strange happening of this place. Some fluidity of time that leaves everything a blur of sensation and sound.

There is _so much_ to feel. His lips at her jaw. His hands along her ribs. His knee as it pushes hers apart. The _vines—_ in her hair, at her waist, snaking lower until they are parting her the folds of her cunt, pressing _inside her—_ it’s almost more than she can take, and yet still _not_ _enough_.

He explores her slowly, _worshipfully—_ as if she is something to be not feared, but _loved._

When he _finally_ pushes inside, his cock just as large and warm as the rest of him, it is slow, _careful—_ mindful of her and the enormity of what’s happening. Closer than she’s ever been to another person. It’s _everything._

She barely registers the flash of pain, too absorbed in the closeness. In the way that he surrounds her _— fills her._ He moves inside her like he’s _meant to,_ and she clings to him to hold him as close as he can possibly be.

It takes a while, to find a rhythm, to learn each other in a way that makes her gasp, makes him groan with pleasure as he thrusts into her. It is blinding, when they do— her vision blurring with the intensity of what she feels. The vines bind her to him, hold her legs open to his thrusts, pull her so close they are almost one person.

She feels his lips at her ear, his teeth scraping there as a brush of leaves mingled with his soft hair touches her cheek.

“You feel so— it’s so— _Rey.”_

“I know,” she soothes, arms winding around his neck as she angles her neck to leave a kiss at his jaw. “ _I know.”_

His hands are on her waist, pulling her into every thrust as he increases the pace. Her name falls from his lips in a steady chorus, a hushed whisper of _ReyReyRey_ that floods her with warmth.

She isn’t sure who tumbles over the edge first, both reduced to trembling bodies and desperate sounds as time stands stiller than it’s ever been. Until it ceases to exist at all.

They are still after, wrapped around each other as the firelight casts a warm glow. A stray vine brushes along her jawline, the soft green shining in his eyes that study her face.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “That I couldn’t help you. That I couldn’t give you what you were looking for.”

She considers, finally shaking her head slowly as a lips curl into a grin. “I think I found what I was looking for.”

He smiles so much now, more than she’s seen in however many days she’s been here, and she knows she would do anything for that smile.

“You know,” she starts again. “The meadow would be a nice place to settle. Seeing as you _can_ go there.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t like the tree?”

“It’s a little small.”

“ _You’re_ very small.”

She huffs. “ _No._ You’re just— nevermind. I’m just saying, it’s a possibility. I’m very good with my hands.”

“Yes,” he laughs. “I’m sure you are.” His expression hardens then, and she isn’t sure what she’s said to upset him.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t leave the tree much… before you.”

“You didn’t?”

He shakes his head. “It only reminded me of how alone I was.”

She reaches to brush an errant lock of hair from his brow, letting her thumb linger at his temple in a soothing motion.

“You’re not alone,” she tells him, because she knows he needs to hear it. “Not anymore.”

“No,” he grins softly. “I suppose I’m not.” He studied her for a moment, and she feels his hand cover hers in assurance. “Neither are you, you know.” He seems to sense she needs it just as much, and it isn’t until that moment that she realizes just how much she does. “You’ll never be alone again.”

She leans in, letting her lips brush against his and allowing his words to take root. She _will_ never be alone again. For the first time in her life, she is grateful to be unafraid. For in the absence of fear, here with Kylo— she feels everything he instills in her that much more.

She was born fearless— but it is only with Kylo that she feels there is truly nothing to fear.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this is the beginner’s course for tentacle sex. I’m going to get you guys into this. Slowly. Just you wait. ❤️
> 
>   
> The amazingly talented Skerft drew this gorgeous art for these two, and I am so in love. Please give her a follow on her [twitter](https://twitter.com/skerft1) to see more of her reylo art! ❤️
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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